I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. Never sent for the shirt. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. Her elbows were ready. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. .
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